


The Catch

by Ellienop



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky's not old fashioned, Darcy isn't taking this laying down, F/M, Fluff, or making any more cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellienop/pseuds/Ellienop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy attends a wedding expecting free booze and fun times, but as usual in her life, something unexpected happens.  Luckily, she's used to rolling with the punches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Catch

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into this fandom and un-beta'd. Thanks to Britt1975 for the invite to this site.

“Ow…holy shit!”

A wave of snickers and chuckles spread through the opulent room, the exclamation drawing the attention of the few people not already focused on the dance floor. Darcy Lewis, source of the commotion notices none of this, too preoccupied staring at the bundle in her hands, eyes wide and brows high. What the actual fuck?

One minute she was standing at the back of the pack of single ladies (dragged there by a deceptively strong and surprisingly insistent Jane), the next she’s a few women deep holding Pepper’s bouquet. This would’ve been awesome, if she’d been trying to catch it. But she totes wasn’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with the tradition or whatever, it just really isn’t her thing. Like as much as she enjoys clichés, which is a frickin’ lot b-t-dubs, she has to draw the line somewhere, and getting hitched because a chick wearing white throws dying foliage at you, seems like a good place to bust out the proverbial Sharpie, y’know?

Besides, her boyfriend might be an antique, but he’s so not old fashioned, (except the random times he is, but this isn’t one of them, she knows). So really, there’s no reason at all for her to be holding these agents-of-Fate, masquerading as a simple bunch of flowers, ok? It seems nobody else sees a problem with this situation though. They’re all cheering like she just won the lottery or something. Even the pointy elbowed, wild eyed crazies are clapping, obviously fake smiles pasted on. Darcy is kind of freaking the fuck out.

Turning toward the table at the edge of the dance floor where most of her peeps are sitting, hoping for a little help because seriously - geniuses, super spies, assassins…freakin’ Avengers, they should be able to fix this, rescue her, cause an International Incident as a distraction…something. But one look at her so-called friends, and she knows it’s not going to happen. Douchebags. Clint’s looking gleeful and smug, Steve’s wearing a shit eating grin, all brassy kid from Brooklyn, and Dr.B is looking exasperated but amused. See if she bakes them cookies again! Thor’s beaming smile is, well Thor, but Jane (the traitor) is conspicuously missing from the scene. Something shady is definitely going on. The suspicious glimpse of black silk and red hair while the women were jockeying for position, flashes through her mind. The bouquet changing trajectory in a way, that shouldn’t be possible. Self-returning weapons research her ass, Tony and Clint. Her eyes narrow as the pieces fall into place. Oh. Hell. No.

Flashing blue eyes seek out and find Bucky. He’s observing the scene, casually sprawled in his seat; legs spread, one arm resting on the table, the other draped across the back of his chair, all laid-back, careless grace. His gaze is steady and calm, waiting to see how she wants to play things, “you good, doll face?” He knows they’ve been set up (if she’s figured it out, he definitely has), but he’s cool, as long as she’s okay. Just like that, Darcy’s not freaking out anymore. 

Sure, the bouquet landing in her hands surprised her, all those eyes on her overwhelming (she’s no Tony Stark), but she’s over it now. The simple truth about Darcy is: she’s a fighter. Back her in a corner, she’ll come out swinging. Grinning slyly she sends him a wink. He smirks back, eyes full of mirth and daring, “give ‘em hell, baby doll.” 

She snaps a bloom off its stem, tucking it behind her ear. Tossing the bouquet to the confused women, she blows him a Siren Red painted kiss. Spinning on her heel she sashays toward the bar (it’s a Tony Stark party; the top shelf, free booze is calling her name), enough switch in her hips to do her badass, deep blue wiggle dress proud. Seeing a look of relief cross the garter catcher’s face (she’s seen him around the labs), she rolls her eyes. Wimp. Bucky’s laugh rings out over the shocked din of the room, and Darcy shivers. Oh yeah, she is definitely dragging Bucky into the ginormous coatroom later. Drunken wedding sex: it’s a good thing.

~*~

Bucky is smiling as he drags his eyes away from Darcy’s retreating figure, wondering how much longer until he can push that sexy little dress up around her waist, and wrap her legs around his. He’d already done his re-con, deciding on the coatroom - no cameras inside, two doors, access panel a third escape route; Darcy would appreciate the cliché factor. Chuckling he replays the last few minutes, his doll is a firecracker. He still has a hard time believing she ever gave him a chance. But she had and he wasn’t noble or unselfish enough to ever walk away from her. Turning back to the table, taking in the rueful smile and shaking head of his best friend, the smirk Bruce is trying to hide behind his glass, and the impressed, appreciative look Hawkeye’s sending his girl’s way, he can’t help thinking, yet again, he's an undeserving, lucky bastard.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch.” 

Laughing at the archer’s declaration, the echo of his own thoughts, he sees Steve and Bruce nodding in agreement. Shaking his head and smirking he answers “don’t I know it.”


End file.
